


The Whispers (Part 2 of the Broken Inside Duet)

by ekacy



Series: The Broken Inside Duet [1]
Category: Frigga - Fandom, Loki (movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Other, context_please, edenkathleencousins, the broken inside duet, the whispers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:45:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ekacy/pseuds/ekacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is hearing Whispers in his mind and attempts to conquer their overwhelming power. Meanwhile, Thor cannot fathom his brother's disagreeable behavior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Whispers (Part 2 of the Broken Inside Duet)

**Author's Note:**

> -Set before the first "Thor" film as a glimpse into Thor and Loki's relationship prior to Thor's banishment.  
> -More headcanon-based than it is canon-based.

Inspired by this image: http://www.artwallpaperhi.com/Design/fan_art/thor_superheroes_artwork_loki_fan_art_the_avengers_movie_brothers_2560x1704_wallpaper_26660 My friend and I decided to write a collaborative piece explaining the scene, she writing Thor’s point of view, and I writing Loki’s.  
I do recommend that you read her part first, before reading mine, as that is how it was intended, but you are welcome do as you please. Thor’s point of view, my friend’s work, can be found here: http://context-please.livejournal.com/4078.html.  
I do beg pardon as this is my first official fanfiction and is derived more from headcanon than it is from canon. Regardless, I do hope you enjoy.

 

 

The Whispers  
From the Broken Inside Duet

Uncomfortably crushed between Sif and Hogun as the warriors reminisced of battles in their festival of Jul celebrations, Loki heard, and felt, Thor’s laughter reverberate through the room.

“You could hear Ögmundr’s patience snap from Midguard!” Sif’s voice chimed.

Loki caught the flush of mead on her cheeks as she smiled broadly over her goblet, inexplicable joy an enchanting air around her. Loki admired Sif’s beauty as others admired his own, her smaller features and silky raven hair, but what Loki truly appreciated about the women was how she refused to let her beauty dictate her life. She was a warrior at her heart and a warrior she would be, every day and always. Loki began to wonder if Sif admired him for any of his praised traits.

She does not admire you. You fool yourself, prince, thinking that anyone admires you. Even your brother thinks you disgraceful.

The words, speaking somehow from both inside Loki’s mind and outside it, deep within the halls, struck like lightning through him as another round of laughter shook the great dining hall where they gathered. Unexpectedly, Loki felt extremely vulnerable without his armour. His tunic, though his favourite and most comfortable piece of clothing, seemed to have been thinned, as if becoming a transparent sheet about him, and the prince felt naked and exposed and he longed for the comforts of his handsome armour.

_Why would you be vulnerable? Do you know of the tricks and deceit that befall upon you from those whom you trust? Do you know that, without that which your mother has taught you, you would find yourself helpless and without? You do, don’t you, young prince?_

Loki felt fire in his eyes at such a suggestion, a burning within his heart rose at the snarl of the word “prince” and he tried to figure why these... Whispers, said it in such a way. Did they know of something that Loki did not? What was this magic? The words felt like a thousand pin-prick needles assaulting him. He felt his face flatten, all emotion evaporating from it.

The voices continued their taunting, speaking ill of Odin and of Thor. Loki found himself meeting the gaze of his brother from across the table, his eyes displaying great curiosity and concern. As the Whispers continued in his mind, they suddenly spoke ill of his mother. Loki grimaced and rose abruptly from his chair, the legs scraping against the marble floor; the screeching sound it made briefly drowned out the bat-like keening of the Whispers inside his head, which seemed to echo from the walls to the ceilings. From the corner of his eye, as he left through the great entrance doors, he thought he could see Thor’s mouth open to speak to him.

While walking, he attempted a casual pace, as if he was merely leaving early – as he had countless times before. Upon reaching a fair way away from the doors, he allowed himself to lengthen his stride, briskly moving to find some kind of sanctuary.

***

Stumbling upon a lonesome balcony, Loki fell to his knees.

Groping at his hair and his head with his treasured, feminine hands, he tried desperately to focus on banishing the Whispers. But, as much as Loki used whatever force he could muster, they only seemed to grow louder, chorusing in taunting echoes. He longed to be a child again, when he could simply run to Frigga, or to Thor, and be embraced and comforted and calmed. Alas, he was a grown man, now, and that was considered unacceptable behaviour from an Asgardian prince.

_Prince, prince, prince! Prince!_

The Whispers mocked the man they abused; they seemed to laugh at Loki and his “childish desires”. What grown Asgardian can say they have not wished to obtain the innocence of childhood again, after finding the harshness of the world? After knowing fear, who can say they had not wished for time to reverse so that they can live in a time without awareness of it? The Whispers drew their strength from Loki’s weakness and Loki felt himself grow cold, his breath shortening and quickening, his body curling in on itself as a single tear swam down his smoothened cheek, hitting the floor as a tiny drop of ice, shattering before melting to the floor as if it had never been there.

Hearing footsteps, Loki jolted to stand at attention, straightening himself and smoothing the distinct crinkles in his beloved tunic, a gift from his mother, studying it carefully to ensure that it had not been dirtied. Frigga appeared from around the corner, with a loving smile and open eyes as she located her son.

“You left early, my love.” the Queen remarked, stepping smoothly towards Loki.

Loki smiled, “Mother, dear.” He moved forward towards her, with all of his natural grace, a trait inherited from the beloved woman who stood before him. Loki grasped her hands to cup them in his own. “Do I not always?” he said, his lips parting into a smile as his eyes softened with affection, his heart, frozen moments ago, warmed by this familial love.

The Whispers halted and seemingly washed away.

“Oh, Loki,” Frigga sighed, raising her hand to hold his face.

Loki closed his eyes, focusing on the soft touch, and breathed deeply, “I was about to retire,” he whispered, with a silken voice he reserved only for his mother and these moments of sweetness, which he so cherished.

“Then I shall leave you be, my darling,” replied Frigga, removing her hand and embracing her son warmly before holding his face in her hands once more and speaking, almost to herself, “I love you, Loki, my dearest son.”

Loki smiled sadly as Frigga’s eyes wondered from his and she seemed to fall from this world into another.

“And, I you, mother,” was all he could manage to breathe as Frigga fell away from him into the hallway and out of sight.

The Whispers returned with new ferocity, their cacophony tearing at Loki’s ears and his heart. His feet seemed to carry him without thought, rushing to his chambers where he shoved the door closed, collapsing against the robust wood while the voices engulfed him in a sheath of possessive, smoking chaos.

***

Feeling the comfort of the observing stars as he lost himself in the wonder of his book, Loki’s slight, sensitive fingers grazed the soft paper, newly printed. His back pulsed lightly with a dull pain as his muscles shifted with the movement of his arm, regardless of how graceful he tried to be. He stiffened and focused harder on being enthralled by the illustrations and the intricate lettering that this book so wondrously displayed. The flickering candle was a comfort, a distraction, as was the chair that he sat so tenderly on. Its fabric, so soft, its colour was of the Vanaheim green that Loki adored so very much.

“Loki,” Thor’s voice flitted through the silence of the room.

Loki snapped to attention, the shattered silence a shock to him. Through the dull light he saw his brother, bold and strong, a smile lighting his yielding face. He smiled himself, gently, feeling Thor’s presence warm him, despite the chilled night air flowing from his window. Thor approached Loki’s place in the room; Loki saw that he had diminished his usual brutish stride to be more careful, to match the atmosphere that Loki lived in.

Reaching Loki, Thor hovered above him momentarily, peering at the pages Loki was so entranced by. Loki watched his brother’s eyes survey the details of the illustrated dragon’s fire and the script alongside it; he began to wonder whether Thor saw the details of the dragon scales that were drawn over the minute bumps in the paper, or the way the ink sometimes pooled at the end of letters when the writer paused for too long.

Thor, smoothly and carefully, sat down beside Loki and closed the book, removing it from his brother’s hands as if taking a toy from a sleeping, small child. Loki wished to scold Thor for being so gentle and unlike himself but could not find the strength to form the necessary words.

“Brother, are you well?” Thor asked.

Loki glanced up, unable to speak. He reassured himself that he could trust Thor, that Thor was his brother, his best friend, his closest companion. Loki attempted to convince himself that he could tell Thor anything and Thor would be there to support Loki and his decisions. Thor would always be there to love him and would never leave his tiny brother. Yet, the seed of doubt does grow like a great wall of ivy vines, strangling one’s thoughts, and one’s self.

“I know...” Thor began. He paused as Loki stared, studying the details of his brother’s kind face, committing it to memory as a reminder of Thor’s tenderness, for later years when it might be lost after the trauma of great battles and, perhaps, even wars.

Thor began again, “I know you are not found of feasts, but it is Mother’s birthday... she missed you at the banquet.”

Loki wished he had the courage to voice that he had paid a brief visit to the hall, and that he regretted his inability to stay longer than he had. He hated to disappointed his mother, he hated to see her pained, but he knew that she would excuse herself from the celebrations to come read with him shortly, as she always did.

Instead, he replied quietly, “I do not wish to join the celebrations.”

There was a brief silence as Loki’s eyes glazed over and he longed to see Frigga and watch her be joyous and festive. Thor found an opportunity to speak of what he had come in for.

“You are in pain,” Thor said, “Your back?”

Loki nodded. His head hung low as he battled whether or not to tell Thor that the physical pain was measly compared to the mental and emotional struggle that he was battling.

“May I see?”

Loki knew not to speak, for fear he would say more than he should, so he shifted himself so that his back was to Thor without a word. Thor then lifted Loki’s thin shift to see the bruise that Loki could only faintly feel; Loki focused on the goosebumps prickling his skin as the cool night air breezed about him.

“Who did this?” Thor demanded through the peaceful quiet.

Loki recalled practicing an illusion. He remembered hearing cautious voices, words hissed through the rocks where he had secluded himself.

_“Let’s see how close we can get!” urged one._

_“Let’s see what we can do!” agreed another._

_“Let’s anger the guard!” the last jeered._

A vicious shove had followed then, Loki’s back forced against the stones about him.

His voice shrank and shook as he answered Thor and he scolded himself for it, “A boy... from the lower town. He... he pushed me into a rock.” An image of Loki’s favoured guard chasing three children down a winding road emerged in Loki’s mind and he turned to face his brother to finish the abridged story, “The guard chased him away.”

Thor placed his hand across the back of Loki’s neck, pulling his forehead to rest against Thor’s own. “I will protect you, Loki, always.”

Loki, though a small, grateful, smile graced his face, said very quietly and cautiously, “Do you promise?”

Thor took his other hand to graze through Loki’s raven hair. Loki found the gesture warmed him again as his brother’s touched was so gentle, so careful.

“I do solemnly swear.” Thor whispered in reply.

***

Having woken in a heap, in the centre of his floor, the Whispers barely present, Loki had washed and dressed and left his quarters for fresh air and, perhaps, lessons from Frigga. However, he had seen Frigga and Sif deep in conversation and had decided to leave the two to spend time together, alone. The young prince strolled through the gardens, feeling stronger and bolder now that he wore his armour once again. Loki had circled around the gardens twice when he spied Frigga and Sif talking once more. He stopped before approaching them. Truly, they were the most beautiful women in all of the nine realms. It was an honour to be their friend and son.

Thinking that he could approach them, with a charming greeting, Loki began to move forward, away from the pier that he stood behind.

Thor’s voice then boomed through the quiet, as always, “Mother!” he said, overly enthusiastically.

Loki darted behind the pier again, wincing at his missed opportunity. He suspected if he approached now there would be various questions from Thor about the night before. He overheard Sif farewell Frigga, leaving with the clonks of her leather boots against the pavement.

“Thor, I see you did not drink too much mead last night,” Loki heard Frigga remark of her other son.

“No, Mother, but I did try.” Thor replied.

Frigga’s laughter chimed and Loki opened his closed eyes as he pained from the sweetness of that laughter. He wondered why love could be such a strong emotion that it brings pain to feel it.

“I think,” Thor said from across the way, “that, perhaps, Volstagg will retire from mead for a while.”

“Volstagg does love his mead,” Frigga agreed cheerfully.

There was a long, comfortable, silence where Loki felt himself relaxing slightly. He began to think it time for him to leave, but he had a greater desire to stay and listen to his brother and his mother, the two people he truly loved with all of himself.

He heard Frigga and Thor begin to walk and could picture them approaching The Garden, Frigga’s Garden. Loki knew this to be her favourite place, as did many others. This was her sanctuary. Here, she could come to think but also to rest. It was a place of harmony and balance, something Frigga appreciated greatly.

Loki could imagine them both staring lovingly at Frigga’s flowers, his gift to her an age ago. Loki felt they had sat on the bench, the very same bench where he learned what Frigga had to teach him, where he listened and laughed. That bench, Loki would always recall his happiest memories belonging to.

“Mother, you are worried.” Loki heard Thor saying, interrupting his reverie.

At this, Loki peered to see and watch his family. He saw the worry in his mother that Thor had spoken of and his heart clenched with worry of his own.

“Your father...” Frigga began but Loki saw her give that far-off look as her words trailed away.

“Do not worry.” Thor reassured Frigga, his oversized hands holding her shoulders supportively. “Sleipnir will bring Odin home. Sleipnir always has before.”

If it didn’t hurt mother so, I would wish the damned horse would lose the old man for once.

Loki shook himself, unsure whether those were his thoughts, or the Whispers wafting invasively through his mind.

“Sometimes, I forget how perceptive you are.” Frigga said to Thor.

“I am a great mystery!” Loki heard Thor proclaim.

Loki thought to leave then; his mother and brother seemed to be approaching light topics that would not concern him.

“But, perhaps, at this moment, the biggest mystery is your bother.”

Loki froze. He saw Thor’s smile fade as he comprehended what Frigga had voiced.

“Sif.” was all he uttered, and bitterly.

“She is worried for both of you.” Frigga scolded. Loki made note of the emphasis on “both” and wondered if it implied that Sif housed more concern for one of the brothers than she did the other.

Thor was silent as Loki looked on in anticipation.

“I know,” he finally spoke, “I am... worried for Loki. Last night was most odd.”

Loki was attentive now as Frigga studied Thor’s face while she spoke herself.

“Loki does not find entertainment in feasts,” she said, “that is not unusual.”

“No,” Thor argued, “but it was something... else. I cannot explain it.”

_Something else. Something else. SOMETHING ELSE!_

The Whispers hissed like harsh and high whistles in Loki’s ears. He recoiled and his knees shook while Frigga spoke again.

“Perhaps Loki simply needs to talk. You should go to him.”

With those words, Loki straightened, stiffened, and marched away to return to his chambers, fear a wild beast rising in his chest. How was he to talk to Thor? How was he to explain what he did not know or understand?

***

Loki paced his quarters, battling with the Whispers, now more powerful than they had yet been. The strength they wielded could shame the King’s armies. It felt cold, icy, and foreign, and Loki struggled to compose himself. A shooting pain spun through his breast and he felt his vision blur, he saw his world as if through fog, as if he were caged in himself.

The Whispers had succeeded: they had taken him.

There was a knock on the door and Loki felt the Whispers take his arms, moving them to sharply, viciously, open the door. There Thor stood in front of him.

“Brother,” the Whispers said with Loki’s lips, Loki’s voice. Only, the voice was tainted, Loki could hear a slight slur underneath the words, a snake-like hissing. The Whispers used Loki’s lips to smile at his brother.

Thor smiled in return though, Loki, inside himself as the Whispers used his form as a vessel, could tell that he was wary.

“Loki,” his brother’s voice was warm, soothing, “May I come in?”

 _NO!_ Loki felt himself screeching.

“Of course,” the Whispers replied instead, moving aside to allow Thor to enter the room.

Thor studied Loki’s room, unchanged with time, with the exception of his brother’s increasing book collection. Meanwhile, Loki strained himself to regain control over his own body. The Whispers were almost laughing at him as he clawed for his body again and again. Suddenly, there were very still. Loki felt fear rush him, they had observed Thor’s hesitation and were attempting to act as Loki would.

“What brings you here, brother?” the Whispers asked. Loki caught Thor studying his hair, through all of this, Loki had forgotten to slick it back and it lay about his face like a mane of shadows softening his sharp features.

“I wish to talk to you.” Thor replied.

“Talk?” the Whispers laughed, “But that is so unlike you.” The jeering made Loki cringe, it was too harsh, too cold, to come from him.

“Maybe so,” Thor’s words were slightly pained as he sat on their childhood bench that he had been eyeing since he entered the room.

Loki saw him relax with the comforting familiarity of the seat. He felt the Whispers rise jubilantly and he began to fight again, trying to force his consciousness back into himself. The Whispers, meanwhile, took his body to sit next to Thor, giving him a brotherly nudge and peering at him lovingly. Loki felt ill.

 _Can you not see that this isn’t me, you fool!_ He cried, indignant, from inside himself.

“Loki... are you well?”

The Whispers had gained too much control over Loki and the prince felt his face soften as they answered. “I am well. Why?”

 _Can Thor not hear the slightly scraping words? Can he not sense this unnatural?_ Loki thought, astounded.

“I just...” Thor began, but trailed off into a pause, rubbing his hand over his eyes and looking away. “I noticed you have been acting strangely, as of late.” He looked back at Loki before he finished, “I was wondering if there had been any incidents.”

Loki felt his body go stiff and a sudden cold rise from his chest and through him. Loki pushed and almost conquered the Whispers but he seemed to fly back deeper into the fog. He felt himself tear from the bench, pacing across the room before turning with a force Loki had not known he possessed.

“Do you think me so helpless?” he felt his throat strain with the raising of his usual tender expressions.

“That was not–”

The Whispers gave no room for Thor’s defense and thundered as they continued, “Do you think me powerless?” Loki flinched with the bellows rising from him as they echoed through the miniscule room. “Oh, what your world must be like, to be such a _noble protector_!”

Thor stepped forward, off the chair, reaching toward this form that was barely his brother at all. “Loki–”

“No!” the Whispers grated, “No! You do not get to speak! You, who I thought understood me!”

Thor stepped forward again as the Whispers enlarged his form with a great fury that Loki had never felt before.

“You think me weak?” they now screamed, “I could crush the whole of Asgard on a whim; eradicate your pathetic existences with a single blow! I could dissolve all of the atoms in your body with a thought!”

Loki suddenly realised the truth of these worlds: the strength and power that he truly wielded in himself. As he comprehended all of this he felt the Whispers weaken with his agreement and he knew he had a chance. With a great, desperate, thrust Loki burst through the fog and became himself once again, feeling his face falling again to a blank expression.

“Brother,” he heard Thor plead in front of him.

Loki froze as he saw the affection his brother displayed and was torn back into the fog by the merciless Whispers.

“Brother?” the demand shot pain through Loki, “ _Brother_?” they repeated at Thor, hysteria bubbling inside of them.

Thor tensed, all hope drained from him.

“You are an _obnoxious_ , _arrogant_ , spoiled _runt_ of a child!” the Whispers growled, “Always, I have lived in your shadow. You never even knew how much I hated you, the _loving big brother_ who seemed to care so much. You are the most dense person I have ever known! But you never truly understood me, did you? You were never truly _my brother._ I _never_ loved you, Thor. _Never_.”

Loki tasted the villainous venom that dripped from the words as he watched Thor, his beloved brother, shatter, as all he had ever known was shown to be a lie.

 _Thor, no! I do love you! My brother! Please! This is not me you speak with!_ Loki cried inside himself.

The Whispers’ laughter echoed around Loki as he begged and pleaded for Thor to see that this was not true. This was some kind of dark magic. The Whispers stared icily at Thor as Loki watched him crumble, comprehending their brotherhood and the fact that it never existed. Loki saw him desperately grip at Mjolnir.

Loki whimpered: _You cannot fix this with your hammer, brother._

Thor moved to leave the room, his pain and rage engulfing him as his movements seemed brash and brutal, more so than usual.

“Thor!” Loki shrieked, breaking through the Whispers for one final world, pleading and injured.

Like thrusting and turning a knife, Thor gripped the doorknob and twisted it ferociously before storming away, leaving Loki, engulfed in pain and the Whispers still swirling about him.

 

Moments later, Frigga rushed into the room, having seen Thor storming away, and embraced a trembling Loki, a war with himself and whatever had infected him still ongoing. Frigga hugged her son as he fell to his knees, cradling his own head.

“Mother,” the prince whined.

“Hush, my love,” Frigga said, “Calm yourself.”

Frigga stroked Loki’s hair, untangling it from his gripping hands, and kissed his forehead as she whispered gently, magic flowing through her and surrounding Loki, lifting the curse that had burdened him. As Loki felt himself return he also felt himself collapse into his mother’s hold, hysterical but silent tears staining her beautiful gown. Loki clutched at his mother, his arms, deceptively strong and large, encompassing the woman’s smaller frame. She returned the gesture, comforting her son.

“Hush, my dear,” Frigga spoke in breaths, “they do know what pains us most and how to inflict their agonies. I will explain it all to Thor.”

“Oh, mother!’ Loki sobbed, “I love you and I love him. I am sorry.”

“It could not have been avoided my darling; we were unaware. You are forgiven by me, as you will be by your brother.” she reassured the broken prince.

Loki tightened his hold on his mother and let himself go, he was comfortable this way, and his world had been shattered enough for one day.

~Fin~


End file.
